


Hat Store

by spring_gloom



Category: Wiseguy
Genre: Episode Related, M/M, Occult AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-18
Updated: 2012-12-18
Packaged: 2017-11-21 10:30:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/596689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spring_gloom/pseuds/spring_gloom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Hey Vinnie, I’m a ghost and I’ve come back to haunt you.”<br/>An AU of Last Rights for Lucci.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hat Store

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Franzeska](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Franzeska/gifts).



> I tried to 'fix' the Steelgrave Arc with ~magic~ and it turned out like this.  
> Thanks to MK for giving it the once-over.

Vinnie was on the roof again, taking a swing at the Other Guy. The one mocking him by wearing his own face. Sometimes it’d happen a little differently. They could be at the casino, the Terranova Marina or just on the streets – it always ended the same way.

The snarling figure grasped him by the coat and thrust him backward. There was a lurch in Vinnie’s stomach as gravity pulled him further and further from the grinning face that never broke eye contact until it was swallowed by the darkness.

His entire body jerked as it hit the pavement and his eyes flew open with shock. He wasn’t dead. He wasn’t even on a pavement. But adrenaline-driven instincts were screaming at him that he wasn’t safe.

“Hey Vinnie,” said someone on his right, “I’m a ghost and I’ve come back to haunt you.”

Vinnie’s upper half sprang off the bed and he turned towards the sound. As his eyes made out the features beside him, the blood froze in his veins. He had recognised the voice, but his eyes now confirmed his fears.

“What is this?” he asked in a voice smaller and more cracked than intended.

“It’s me.” Sonny Steelgrave spread his arms in a grand gesture. “Back from the dead.”

Vinnie swallowed as his groggy brain scanned through the facts. He had seen Sonny die with his own eyes; shaken the lifeless body. Hell, Frank had even made an attempt at CPR. He desperately tried to rationalize the situation while a part of him dared to hope.

“What, nothing?” Sonny let his hands fall and he shook his head. “I shoulda gone with an old Dracula voice or something. Really put the scare into you.” His tone was strangely without humour.

Vinnie wasn’t used to having no response. Thinking on his feet was a large part of the job. It was a dream though, so he could say anything, right? But before now, he couldn’t recall ever knowing he was dreaming.

“I’d deserve it, I guess,” he told Sonny, daring to believe he could converse with this apparition.

Sonny’s eyes hardened to bore through the other man. “Yeah, you do.”

“So, what?” said Vinnie, finally moving to sit on the edge of his bed. His courage was roused. “You float outta your grave to tell me that? What the hell is this?”

“I was kidding about the ghost thing. What, I look transparent to you?” Sonny casually picked up a baseball from Vinnie’s table and passed it tensely from hand to hand. “Nah. I was dead but now, not so much. I just wanted you to know that I haven’t forgotten what you did to me.”

Vinnie opened his mouth but halted when a wave of tiredness rushed over him.

“You oughta get some rest,” Sonny’s distant voice told him coldly. Vinnie’s brain couldn’t hold onto the words that Sonny uttered next.

He was warm and his vision dim. There was a distinct feeling of heat spreading out from his ear. A hand was shoved inside his unzipped trousers and he realized his own hand was rubbing against warm cloth. Sonny’s uncomposed breath was tickling his neck.

Vinnie knew his surroundings well. It was the swanky room that never let him forget all that his boss and close friend had given him. He’d woken up in many a fit of guilt to a room that only rubbed it in harder; it served as testament to the loyalty the other man expected.

Vinnie groaned as deft fingers continued to work their way past his briefs. He leaned more of his weight back into the wall before his knees could buckle and pulled Sonny against him with his spare arm.

His own stroking hastened to match his partner’s pace. The spring in his gut and Sonny’s hot breathing told him it wouldn’t be a long tryst for either of them that evening.

“We barely made it outta the elevator,” panted Sonny in his ear.

As Vinnie felt his entire body tighten, he prepared for that shuddering explosion of bliss.

Instead, there was a pale mockery of the sensation and no feeling of relief. It was then that Vinnie realized he was in the tail end of a dream and tentatively opened his eyes.

\--

Vinnie sat with a lousy instant coffee in one hand. It had become lukewarm, a state that had not improved its quality in the slightest. The drink had originally been made as a warm shock of stimulant to accompany a cool shower but it had largely been forgotten.

The troubled man could not decide whether the new dreams he had were better or worse than the usual ones. Or if indeed they had all been dreams.

”I must be crazy,” Vinnie said to no one in particular, as if confirming the theory.

Before now, his subconscious had thought it prudent to throw him only one particular metaphor. It was aware that the rest of him knew he was guilty about betraying Sonny and it left well enough alone. Unfortunately, dreams were in the business of free association as well as metaphors, so dreams about Sonny in his room at night seemed an inevitable result. It had just been so disturbingly vivid; he could even recall the scent of Sonny’s old cologne wafting past his face as he had slipped back into sleep. Upon waking, Vinnie had looked over the room, expecting it to give him some indication that the other man had been there.

The next part – the third dream – wasn’t all that rare. Whenever he had a dream like that these days, Vinnie woke with a hard-on and a spooky chill. He always jumped straight into a cold shower after the first time because when he tried to take care of his situation, his brain only directed him straight back to Sonny Steelgrave.

That time, the dream had been as close to a memory as possible. Vinnie remembered it clearly; it was a day they’d been trying out girls with some real sexy moves at the casino. The last acrobatic girl had left so there was a new slot to fill. The way some of those ladies could bend blew the mind. Auditioning them personally was definitely one of Sonny's favourite diversions.

Once Sonny had the details of the best performer – not to mention some of the others – he’d looked upon Vinnie as a starving man would a stray filet mignon and insisted that they venture upstairs, pronto.

It wasn’t the first time they got riled up and took it out on each other. After all, they’d become close friends quick; friends who got in each other’s personal space and went out together with beautiful women on their arms. Sometimes, after a double date like that, they’d all have a little collective fun. Or sometimes, gentlemanly instincts would prevail and they’d drop the girls home before providing their own entertainment.

That night, they’d barely made it out of the private elevator. They certainly never reached the bedroom.

As if to distract himself, Vinnie took a sip of the concoction in his mug. It proved effective, as he could barely swallow the cold muck.

He put the mug down in disgust and wondered how he’d fill his time until the first group therapy session. It was so strange to have nothing to occupy him.

\--

Vinnie came home tired and conflicted. He hadn’t shared anything at therapy, not really. He couldn’t help but be filled with a childish resentment for the therapist, the group and most of all Frank for sending him there. Plus there was Mike, apparently willing to criticize anyone with even a modicum of emotion. The man had taken an instant shine to Vinnie, but he was to be treated with caution.

The tranquility of an impersonal hotel room was awfully appealing at that moment so Vinnie hurried in. Immediately, he felt an unwelcome presence. The years of police training asserted themselves as he reached for his concealed pistol without hesitation.

“Don’t bother.”

A lamp flicked on, illuminating the figure of Sonny lounging in a hard wooden chair. Just like he used to recline in his office. His eyes were arrogant, although the effect was slightly distorted by the small cut under one of them. His right arm, which he’d extended casually onto the bench behind him, looked like it had a few healing burns.

Vinnie’s heart nearly ceased pumping.

“What, this again? Quit gawking, it’s me. And close the door, will you?”

Vinnie obeyed in silence, all the while keeping an eye on the specter in his room.

“You weren’t a dream.”

Of course it had been a dream. It still was. Vinnie's eyes were drawn to the burnt hand of the man in front of him. He was back at the cinema watching hopelessly as Sonny stuck that hand in the fuse box. The lit-up body danced and twitched until it fell like a puppet with its strings cut.

“Real as ever.” Sonny continued to lounge. “Well, still standing at least. I see you’re really living it up here, Vinnie.”

“I don't mind it.” Vinnie’s mouth responded while his brain lagged behind. Sonny’s prone corpse dominated his mind.

“You don’t miss the luxury, huh? Let me guess: you were just doing your job. You supped your expensive champagne with a long spoon.”

Vinnie didn’t care for jibes at that moment. A dead man was in his room and he was now relatively sure he wasn’t dreaming or hallucinating. The death was so fresh in his mind and weighed so heavily on his conscience that some days he thought he may be crushed. It was a relief to see the very man in front of him, but he was now somehow expected to converse.

“How are you even here?” Vinnie couldn’t bring himself to sit down to talk. There was a tightness in his calves urging him to bolt.

“I won’t get into the gory details, but let’s just say there’s more to the world than what you see on the news or what your brother preaches every Sunday. Secrets available to those in the know.” Sonny regarded his old friend’s face with smugness. “Rituals of blood and darkness and all that crap.”

“I don’t get it. Spell it out for me.” Whatever it was, it didn't sound very Catholic.

“Magic, Vinnie. Of the _Cosa Nostran_ variety. It was a good thing this old corpse was still in good condition.”

“You expect me to believe the Mafia use magic? Real magic? And I never found out about it?” It was a lot to swallow. But so was the sudden appearance of a dead man.

“Don’t flatter yourself. Of course the Mafia can use all that mumbo jumbo. Think about it, Vinnie. A bunch of guys from a tiny island like Sicily become that powerful just by the sheer force of their will? Nah.”

Had Vinnie been younger and less cynical, he would have worried for Sonny's soul. Admittedly, he had thrown the odd prayer Sonny's way before. Just in case. But he wasn't even sure what the rules were for this kind of situation. He could guess that God did not look favourably upon it.

“So you’re saying someone came along and magicked you up again and now you’re fine? What do they do with all the other guys they conjure outta their graves?”

“I wouldn’t say I was fine.” Sonny’s demeanour darkened and he rose from the chair.

Vinnie's whole body tensed further, but the other man didn’t make an attempt to move closer.

“You betrayed me more than I could possibly imagine. I’m not fine with that.” Sonny had the air of a coiled spring about him. “The Feds – you – have seized the product of all my hard work. And you know how hard I had to work. I couldn’t touch my bank accounts anyway ‘cause the cops saw me check out and I don’t want to give them cause to think otherwise. I can’t even marry Theresa now. Do you know how that feels? I liked that girl, Vinnie. She was very dear to me. We woulda had great kids. I can’t have any now, in this ridiculous imitation of the human form. It ain’t right inside. On top of that, I have to spend the rest of my days lying low all because Mahoney had the bright idea that I could be salvaged.”

Vinnie watched the man’s fists flex and his eyes darken. His kinetic energy could be felt across the gap.

“Why’d you come to me for?” was all Vinnie could ask.

“I came here to haunt you.” Hard eyes pinned him in place.

Vinnie's patience thinned. “You gonna kill me or what? Stop messing me around!”

It was then Vinnie realized that his former boss couldn’t even bring himself to do it when he thought Vinnie had sold him out to his biggest rival. Even when he thought his own life meant nothing to his friend, Sonny had been willing to just let Vinnie free. Here he was now and nothing had changed.

“I’m not who I once was, Vinnie. I don’t have any interests to protect. We’re brothers bound by blood and ritual. I laugh at the flashy stuff, but I respect the meaning. I’m a traditionalist and I’m also a pragmatist. I know you love me, you said so even when you didn’t have to. So I’m giving you a chance to rethink your shining moral integrity.”

The way Sonny spat the final words did not go unnoticed. “Giving me a chance to do what, huh? Get your company back? Come work for whoever’s in charge now? What do you think’s gonna happen?”

“Would you just button it, you idiot?” Sonny’s muscles automatically tensed into fighting stance but much to Vinnie's relief, he slackened once he became aware of it. Vinnie was the bigger man, but Sonny had a mean swing and they'd always been evenly matched. “There’s nothing left for you around here. I’m asking you to quit pretending there might be.”

“I’m not completely useless around here. There are people only I can help,” said Vinnie resentfully. He thought of the guy Pete had mentioned who’d soon be on the receiving end of a hitman’s undivided attention. Vinnie had a chance to save a little guy, even if he didn’t know who said guy was yet. There was someone out there like Sonny Steelgrave who regarded the lives of the great unwashed as disposable and he needed to be taught a lesson.

“Yeah, well, good luck on your crusade or charity work or whatever little scheme you have planned.” Sonny glanced between his expensive watch and the door.

“Don’t let me keep you.”

"You won’t. See ya 'round, Vinnie."

Sonny lightly patted his back on the way past and for a second it was just like the old days. Almost. The gesture never used to have animosity behind it.

"Hey, you wanna give me a key so I don't have to keep breaking in here?"

"I only got one," said Vinnie, suddenly realising he didn't actually know how the other man was gaining entry in the first place. "If you plan on coming back, maybe you should just wait 'til I'm in and knock."

"Yeah, maybe," replied Sonny noncommittally and he casually slipped through the door with a slight wave.

In a daze, Vinnie fell back onto his bed. Immense relief flooded every limb; he may have betrayed Sonny but he no longer had the man’s death hanging over him. But at the same time, there was a great knot in his stomach that was hard to attribute to any particular emotion.

All of a sudden, a terrible thought struck him. How had he been so stupid? If Sonny was alive, who else knew he was a cop? Sonny didn't seem intent on killing Vinnie but that didn't mean he was above making his life exceedingly difficult. There could well be a sword dangling over his head.

What it came down to was: could he trust Sonny? There was no reason Sonny ought to keep it a secret. There was nothing he could do but ask directly next time the ghost paid him a visit. There was nothing he could do but collapse.

\--

Vinnie was so single-minded in his pursuit of Lucci and the missing man’s assassin that he barely spent any time at the hotel. On the occasions he did walk in the door, his senses sharpened, expecting another presence, but none came. Well, he hadn’t been hit by any passing mobsters yet, so that was a good sign.

A few days seemed to pass like a shot until Vinnie got to group therapy and learned Mike had done himself in. Mike who, despite being prickly and generally disrespectful, had agreed to help Vinnie track down the corrupt politician trying to hit someone from his neighbourhood. Mike had been committed to his job right to the end so he was one of the white hats, wasn’t he? But life wasn’t a hat store and Mike’s dangerous behaviour could hardly be described as good.

As it turned out, life wasn’t a hat store for Lucci either. The guy paid his taxes, sure, but in the end he’d got himself into trouble by trying to blackmail a corrupt man. So what about Carol’s theory that, by saving Lucci, Vinnie was metaphorically trying to save himself?

“Lucci wasn’t perfect and you’re not perfect,” the psychologist had said. “You don’t need to hold yourself to such a high standard.”

So everyone was allowed a transgression or an impure thought. No one was completely good or bad one way or the other. It was both reassuring and disappointing. Vinnie had been allowed to feel like a martyr doing time just for his cover and he’d expected that same inner light to guide him through the case he was given on the other side. 

Despite weariness on his return from group therapy, Vinnie knew he had a visitor before he was even through the door. This time, the figure was lounging on his bed, arms crossed behind his head. When the tired man came into view, Sonny sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. As he uncrossed his arms, Sonny's burn became clearly visible. It didn’t look like there had been much improvement.

“Healing’s a little slower now,” he explained, seeing Vinnie’s eyes fall on his burn. “The perks of being a corpse.”

He may have been a corpse, but he was still healing to some extent. And he didn't look like a corpse. There was no trace of rotting and his skin seemed flush with blood running beneath the surface.

Vinnie suddenly remembered his urgent question.

“So, anyone else know I'm a cop?” he asked abruptly. “'Cause I wanna know if I need to look over my shoulder and check my car whenever I go out.”

“You do that stuff anyway. I doubt you'd break that habit.”

“Well maybe I wanna know if I need to skip town,” said Vinnie with frustration.

“What do you think?” Sonny asked, standing up. “You wondering whether or not you can trust me? I wonder how that feels.”

Vinnie had the largest urge to sock the other guy but he remembered Sonny's injury. It wouldn't be a fair fight and for all he knew the other man may not heal from it, so Vinnie's urge to fight evaporated as quickly as it had come.

“C'mon, my life's on the line here.”

“I'll let you wonder whether I really want you dead or not,” replied Sonny with conceit. “But I'll think about putting you outta your misery if you can help me with something.”

Vinnie sighed with resignation. “Try me.”

“OCB's still got their filthy hands all over my assets.”

“Oh yeah? It's no use to you anyway.”

“Yeah, but I had a will. You wanna know who was in the will of the man without progeny?”

Vinnie had a sinking feeling. “Surprise me.”

“Most of my estate went to Theresa...” Sonny paused dramatically, but the other man had figured it out already. “...and you, Vinnie. Unfortunately, I didn't get around to changing it when I thought you were helping Patrice whack me at my own wedding.”

“Yeah, well. I’m never gonna see a dime of anything you left me anyway, so don't be too cut up about that.”

“I'll try not to cry too hard. No, I want Theresa to get what she deserves. If I can't provide from beyond the grave, what can I do?”

“If you're looking for answers, I don't have them. It's outta my hands and I don't get to hear anything about your case.”

“Sounds like they really value you,” Sonny jeered.

Yeah, that's how it was and it was a real sore spot too. So much deep cover time and the OCB just thought he was nuts. Sonny had trusted him to run a marina almost straight off the bat. Both sides of the law doubted him but with Sonny it was different; every time his boss' fears were dispelled, he gave Vinnie more trust and responsibility. The worst part was Sonny was the one with reason to doubt him all along.

“I'm on a break,” Vinnie said defensively. “They wouldn't involve me.”

“Yeah, 'cause they think you're cuckoo. I still don't trust you, but at least I know if you blab about me coming here they'd sooner have you institutionalized than consider I was still around.”

Vinnie didn't even bother asking how the other man knew about his therapy. It wouldn't exactly be hard to follow him. Managing to follow him without being recognized  
would be another thing entirely, though.

“I'm not crazy. No one forced me to take the time off.” 

“You're in the middle of a hostile conversation with a dead guy,” said Sonny with a smirk. “Maybe you are crazy.”

“Thanks, but I'm still on this planet.”

Vinnie thought of his dreams. Ever since Sonny's visit, they'd changed a little. Sometimes it went like usual; he'd be fighting himself and then he'd be falling. Sometimes, when the Other Guy grabbed him by the lapels, he found himself staring into the face of Sonny. Instead of pushing him away, Sonny would tug him inwards and a dull thrill would pass through his body as it recalled the familiar sensation. The other man's mouth felt deep and warm for a few moments until the lurch in his stomach told him they were both falling.

Sonny clicked the fingers of his good hand. “Yeah? That look tells me you're orbiting Jupiter. Pay attention 'cause this is important.”

He walked close enough to put a hand on Vinnie's shoulder. The larger man resisted the urge to flinch away; it was the first proper contact they'd had since before Sonny's stag party. The aggressive pats on the shoulder hadn’t counted, especially the ones that said ‘I could kill you any minute, Vinnie, but I’m gonna make you sweat’.

“You think you're so righteous,” Sonny said derisively and poked one finger in the other man’s chest. “You don't want to kill but you'll do it if you have to. You work for a big corrupt machine because you think taking down someone like me will help the little guy. The guy like your dad, doing his round, never bothering no one. Well I got news for you Vinnie: we both just wanted to protect those we love and respect and neither of us are in a position to do it anymore.”

“I don't think I'm righteous,” said Vinnie with disgust. He forced himself to continue making eye contact even with Sonny so confronting and close.

“But the rest rings true.”

Vinnie said nothing, thinking of the way he'd put Pete in danger. Sure both Pete and Lucci had been saved, but how much of the danger had Vinnie caused? Was he really the only person who could save everyone?

“Yeah, that's what I thought. Your place isn't here; it's with me. You know it is.” Sonny's hand tightened around the shoulder.

“Just like that, you trust me again? I don't even know what you're asking me to do.”

“I don't trust you Vinnie, but I love you. I don't wanna fill the rest of my days with busywork in the shadows. It's a matter of pride. I want you with me because I know we're the same.”

Sure, Vinnie's pride was suffering. Those chumps at the OCB had no idea of the things he went through while he was on the inside and they didn't seem to understand how he could possibly feel emotion when he took down the guy who loved and trusted him. It was cold. There were guys in the organisation hoping he'd just pull himself together and there were still others who saw him as a liability.

Did that mean he could run off with a guy who thought a corpse tied up with a pretty red ribbon was an appropriate birthday gift? Even if that guy happened to be the only person who made him feel worth something? Even if that guy could recover from the biggest betrayal of his lifetime and still tell Vinnie he loved him?

Maybe, but there were other concerns too. “They'd watch me and when they did, they'd find you.”

“Crazy cop packs it in after traumatic event. They won't be looking too hard,” said Sonny with a wave of his hand.

Vinnie ignored the flattering description and finally shrugged Sonny's hand off. “What about your estate, huh? I thought we were talking about that.”

“Don’t worry your pretty head about it. I’m not going anywhere before I know exactly where that money’s at.”

“I can ask, but I dunno if it’ll be worth anything.” There was nothing wrong with doing that, Vinnie told himself, because it was just a matter of inevitably released assets.

Sonny raised his eyebrows. “So you want to free me up to leave?”

“That’s not what I said,” complained Vinnie with mild exasperation. “I’m just gonna ask.”

“Think hard, Vinnie, ‘cause I’m really putting myself out there even asking you.” Although to any onlooker, Sonny would have seemed confident as ever. “I got plans. They’re not glamorous but I get the feeling you don’t mind.”

“I guess I'd get a nice retirement payout,” mused Vinnie.

“And I'm not stupid, you know. I had a bunch of cash tucked away for an emergency such as this.” Sonny scanned the room with his eyes. “I'd tell you to start packing your things but I get the feeling this is all you got.”

“Quit getting ahead of yourself. Even if I decide to, I'm not gonna leave right away; I’d have to tie things up here. Tell everyone I'm hitting the road and not to come looking.”

“Yeah yeah, I know. But I want you ready to split at any moment. The Mafia aren't exactly gonna look on my sudden departure with fondness and warmth.”

Vinnie hadn't even thought of that. Presumably they wished to guard their secrets very closely and Sonny was a walking example of one.

“I'll come back here and you'd better have an answer for me,” said Sonny, making to leave.

“Hey.” Vinnie took the other man's forearm. “You wanna stay tonight?”

“You insult me, Vinnie.” Sonny screwed up his face and scrutinized the room before cracking a smirk. “Nah, I unfortunately can't get away for that long. Someone's going to be wondering where I got to. If you wanna see me that bad, come with me.”

Sonny was halfway out the door when he said: “Oh yeah. As much as I hate to spoil a surprise, I’ll put you out of your misery. No one knows you're a cop.”

Even with no real reason for Vinnie to skip town, he felt the definite pull of the road.


End file.
